The Frodoll Journals
by Nilramiel
Summary: This tale is true! Frodoll came to live with me on May 29, 2002. This is life from his Point of View!
1. A lass with sense

Frodoll Journal  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com aka RosieCotton  
  
Disclaimers: This tale is true. I make no money from this story and I own no trademarked names or characters.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
Part 1  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
I have been on the shelf at Toys R Us for a very long time, surrounded by about 50 orcs *shiver* and sword-action Aragorns (not a Sam in sight!), but today something finally happened. I was picked up by the most unlikely person imaginable. This was no child, although she was in a toy store, and this was a lass I had seen before. She had been in here perhaps a week ago, and had picked me up (along with another box, which I happen to know contained another Frodo). She had looked at each of us for a long time, then had placed us back on the shelf and gone away, looking sad. I was beginning to wonder if I would ever leave this dreadful, noisy, lonely place...but today she came back.  
  
Again she picked us both up (yes, he was still here as well) and scrutinized our faces for a long time. My eyes have more shades of blue than the other Frodo, and my eyebrows are more feathery, so I was optomistic. Frankly, although neither of us look strikingly like Frolijah, I think I bear the stronger resemblance. Apparently she thought so too, and with an apologetic smile to the other Frodo, she tucked me under her arm and headed for the checkout.  
  
Woo-hoo!  
  
I could tell right away that this was a lass with sense, because she did two things right away. First, she opened the box. You cannot understand fully, because you have never been as I was - lashed by wire to cardboard in an upright position. I have not felt so stiff since the Barrow Downs! And the dark fear that haunted me - that haunts all action figures, dolls and toys: that I would be doomed to remain "In Mint Condition" *shudder* - did not come to pass. Before even starting the car (and that is saying something, in Texas, in late May), she opened the box and proceeded to free me from my bonds. Oh, it felt so good to be able to bend my legs! Well, okay, to have them bent, but she limbered me up right away!  
  
The second thing the lass did that showed me she was one with a good portion of Hobbit-sense was talk to me - not in a sing-song pretend voice like a child does when playing make-believe with her toys, nor in a deep acting voice like those gamers do when re-enacting adventures. She talked to me as if I could hear her (which of course I can) and as if I had some measure of intelligence (which of course I do).  
  
"Well, Frodo, that's better, isn't it? And it's much too hot for that cloak and coat...oh, what dummy sewed your coat to your breeches? Sheesh!"   
  
At this point she got out a pair of nail clippers and proceded to make my clothes functional again.   
  
"Oooh! Your cloak unfolds - how nice! Let's take it off for now, though, shall we? And the coat. Much better, yes?"  
  
Yes. It was much better. And I could tell that this lass and I were going to get along just fine!  
  
~*~*~*~  
To Be Continued..... 


	2. Call me Rosie

Frodoll Journal  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com aka RosieCotton  
  
Disclaimers: This tale is true. I make no money from this story and I own no trademarked names or characters.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
Part 2  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Once she had me more comfortable (relieved of my cloak and coat and settled in her ample and quite comfortable lap), she started up the car and we headed off. I can't tell you how exciting it was -- my first ride in a car. The big trucks don't count, as we were all stuffed into boxes within boxes and the only sensations were sound and smell, and a terrible jolting. Kind of reminded me of..well, I'd rather not talk about that, actually.  
  
Anyway, after a bit I asked her to prop me up on the dashboard so that I could see, and WOW was that something! Reminded me a little of riding a pony, but much faster and much smoother. Not that I saw any ponies -- things sure are different here than in Middle-Earth!  
  
While we were speeding along, I asked her what her name was. Bilbo did raise me with proper manners, after all, and though it was clear she knew my name (from the cover of the box, perhaps?), she had not yet given me hers. She was quite embarrassed when I brought this to her attention, and she told me that I could call her Rosie. "Funny," I said, "my best friend married a Rosie." She gave me a very meaningful look, then laughed. Still trying to figure that one out.   
  
We stopped briefly at Horizon Games. I soon learned that this was a gaming place that sold, among other things, trading cards. Oh, I know about trading cards. Toys R Us has plenty of them - Pokemon, Harry Potter, even Star Wars - but no cards about [b]real[/b] people or places, so Rosie had to go to this other place to find them. She left me in the car, which I forgave her for, since she was only gone for about ten minutes. Besides, she told me later that it was full of big, Breelike men who would either snatch me away from her or make inappropriate comments. I can certainly see why she would wish to avoid both possibilities. She came back to the car in short order with two starter packs and five booster packs, and promised to show them all to me when we reached home. I thought that was mighty big of her (no pun intended) considering that I don't have any cards of my own (they don't fit in my backpack, and are awkward to carry).  
  
Once we arrived home, she carried me in, leaving my box in the car (score another point for Rosie!) and sure enough, the very first thing we did was look at all of those cards. She propped me right up on the desk so I could watch while she sorted them into piles. Rosie and I have a lot in common. We both agreed that none of the Frodo cards (of the ones she has so far) adequately showcase Frolijah; and we also agreed that the Sam cards were the best cards of all. She has three of "Sam, Hamfast's Son," and that card brought back such good memories!   
  
Rosie promised me that if they make a Samdoll, she will get one right away, and then I can have someone to talk with when she is not around. Not that I need a lot of conversation, mind you. Being a doll, or an action figure, or a barbie, or whatever you want to call me, I've come to expect very little of it. But it would be nice to have someone else from the Shire around - if not a Samdoll, perhaps a Merrydoll or a Pippindoll or even a Bilbodoll. As far as I know, no such dolls exist -- at least there were never any at Toys R Us. What are those marketing people thinking, anyway?   
  
~*~*~*~  
To Be Continued..... 


	3. Work is a place

Frodoll Journal, Part 3  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com aka RosieCotton  
  
Disclaimers: This tale is true. I make no money from this story and I own no trademarked names or characters.  
  
Author's note: In response to Acorngirl's question: He is a 10 – inch doll with rooted hair. ( I do have two Frodo action figures as well.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Part 3  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Today Rosie took me to a place she called "work." I found this a little odd, since in middle-earth, work is something you do, not somewhere you go. But apparently things are different here. Anyway, she took me in the car, and this time I rode upon the steering wheel. That was exciting! Most of the time I sat nestled in the curve of the wheel, tipping gently from side to side; but every once in a while, she would pick me up and hold me while she turned the wheel completely around in one direction or the other. I'm awfully glad she did, too, or I would have been in for quite a tumble.  
  
"Work," as it turns out, it a large building where children are educated. Strange custom. In the Shire, the elder educate the younger, and there is no need for buildings. But as I have said, things here are different. I spent most of the day sitting atop Rosie's desk. She came and went throughout the day, doing something called "inventory," but I was not lonely, because to my surprise she had a Strider on her desk already!  
  
This Strider is an action figure, not a doll, so he is very stiff and cannot be posed or moved around like I can. He is about my height, but he is stuck in one pose - wielding his sword - which looks very uncomfortable to me. He insisted that it wasn't, as his limbs are made much more stiffly than mine, but I for one am glad that all of my joints are functional! We talked off and on throughout the day, and it helped to pass the time, but Aragorn never was the most talkative chap, even in middle-earth, and this action figure, though not rude, was not one to spend great amounts of time in idle chatter.  
  
*sigh* I really hope they make a Samdoll.  
  
After work, Rosie drove me back home, and we took a nap, which she seemed in dire need of. Her bed is every bit as soft as my featherbeds back at Bag End, and her hole is cozy and full of welcoming clutter. She tucked me up close to herself and, though she's no hobbit, I was as warm and comfortable as I have ever been.  
  
After the nap, Rosie set me atop her computer so that we could talk while she "surfed." All was well until there came a knock at her door. (I should mention that her door is one of those large cornered ones, like the big people use, not a nice round door, and it is white, not green). As soon as she heard the knock, Rosie snatched me off the computer and ran to the bed. She pushed me under a pillow. "Stay quiet, Frodo," she whispered, and then went to the door.  
  
I don't know how long I was under that pillow, but it was as dark and stuffy as a cave, and it seemed a great long time before she at last came and retrieved me. She was very apologetic, and proceeded to explain to me that some visitors could not be trusted, as far as I was concerned. This particular visitor had been her mother, and it surprised and saddened me to learn that I may never meet her.  
  
"Frodo, she doesn't understand about middle-earth," she explained, with sorrow crinkling her features. "She would be alarmed if she saw you, and if she heard me speaking to you, she would consider me mad."  
  
I thought this both very sad and very puzzling, but I agreed to cooperate whenever such discretion was needed. Poor Rosie! Being an adult in her world seems quite complicated.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
To be continued 


	4. A Closer Look

Frodoll Journal, Part 4  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com aka RosieCotton  
  
Disclaimers: This tale is true. I make no money from this story and I own no trademarked names or characters.  
  
AuthorÕs note: Yes, I am obsessed. No, I do not wish to be cured.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
Part 4  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Today Rosie examined me closely. Now before you jump to any conclusions, let me assure you that she did nothing to me that was disrespectful or inappropriate. Perhaps you are surprised that she has not already scrutinized me, but after all, we just met. I appreciate her patience, for she gave me a chance to get to know her first, and to trust her affection for me. Believe me, if I had been purchased for a child, they would not have had such discretion -- particularly a human female child, who would undoubtedly wish to remove all of my clothing and dress me in horrible Barbie garments! Rosie would never do such a thing.   
  
It started when we were sitting in her kitchen. Well, actually I was sitting -- she was preparing something to eat. I was on the kitchen table, and a shaft of sunlight was falling down on me. It was very pleasant, in truth. At one point she came over near me, and gave a gasp. When I asked her what was wrong, she grinned, and said that with the sun shining down on my face, casting shadows over my cheeks, I looked very strikingly like Frolijah. Knowing this was an important point to her, I allowed myself to be seated in various positions and looked at from several angles. This exercise seemed to delight her, and it amused me, for my features are certainly not my own creation and I cannot change them.   
  
In the midst of this "exploration of angles," Rosie noticed my ears. I must admit I have perfectly formed hobbit ears, and they work quite well. She seemed to find them attractive. "Adorable" was the word she used, and she ran her finger around the tip of each one, more than once.   
  
This naturally led to an exploration of my hair. Rosie told me that there had been some discussion at Imladris about Frodoll hair. This confused me for several moments, for Imladris is a name for Rivendell, and I know she could not have visited it anytime in the recent past. She explained to me that she was speaking of Imladris.net, a website upon which people discuss things. One of the things which is discussed (in astounding detail) is Frolijah. Others who had acquired a Frodoll were concerned with our hair, and its apparent lack of resemblance to Frolijah. Some had confessed to using a toothpick to reshape it! Rosie did not do this (thankfully!), she simply felt my curls and pushed them about a bit.   
  
After this, she examined my hands. She was very pleased with my hands, especially my left one, which is shaped in such a way that she can place her thumb into my grasp, and my fingers curl gently around it. The right hand is shaped to hold Sting, which annoys me because I decided in Mordor that I would not do any more killing. But she said my fingers are just perfect, and pointed out that a curled hand can be useful (like for holding on when riding in the car or in a purse (also a very interesting experience, let me tell you!).   
  
Speaking of riding in a car, we are leaving now for "work" so I shall continue this later.  
  
To Be Continued.... 


	5. Slippers and Suspenders

Frodoll Journal, Part 5  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com aka RosieCotton  
  
Disclaimers: This tale is true. I make no money from this story and I own no trademarked names or characters.  
  
Author's note: Yes, I am obsessed. No, I do not wish to be cured.  
  
~*~*~*~*  
Part 5  
~*~*~*~*   
  
Going back to my examination:" Next, Rosie took a good look at my feet. *sigh* She doesn't like my feet, and truth be told I don't much like them either. Real hobbit feet have soft, warm, lovely curls on their tops, but my feet are simply molded plastic, grooved and furrowed to LOOK as if they have hair. In addition, they are much too large. I will admit that hobbits can have rather large feet, but these feet are like flippers! Or small boats! Rosie was very sympathetic, and offered to make me some nice felt slippers for them. In the meantime, she slipped some gummy pencil grips over them - one green and one blue, to keep them warm and out of sight. The former reason is just as important as the latter, because she has something called "air conditioning," which makes my poor hairless feet chilly at times.  
  
As you recall, Rosie had already relieved me of my cloak and my coat, so now she moved to remove my vest. When she slipped it from my shoulders, she gave a small gasp, and for a moment I feared something amiss - but then I saw that she was grinning broadly.  
  
"Why, Frodo! You have suspenders!" she said, and she seemed delighted. "Soft, velvety suspenders! Oh Frodo, can we leave your vest off for awhile? You look so fetching in your braces!"  
  
This I found amusing, as my suspenders serve only to keep my breeches from falling from my hips, but I decided to humor her. I really am growing very fond of Rosie, and am sure of her affection for me. (Not sure of her lucidity, but quite sure of her affection.)  
  
Before removing any more of my clothing, she asked my leave. She would have respected my wishes had I told her I was uncomfortable with such. But I am, after all, a doll, and modesty is not my strongest sentimentality.   
  
Ever so gently, she worked my suspenders and shirt (which are sewn to my breeches, by the way) over my shoulders and off my arms to the waist. Then she giggled.   
  
"Frodo - you look like a bodybuilder! What were those manufacturers thinking?"   
  
She ran her fingers over my muscular back, six-pack stomach, and broad chest. Then across my collarbones and down each arm.  
  
"Well, Frodo, they got the neck right, and the arms, too, by my reckoning, but unless you have been training with the Uruk-Hai, the rest of you is just too built!"  
  
This made me laugh along with her. I assured her that I had not been training with Uruk-Hai or any other army.   
  
Naturally, curiosity required that she take a look at the rest of me, so off came the breeches. Again, I remind you, I am a doll! Being dressed and undressed is completely expected, and in fact we received a training session on it before leaving the plant. "The Doll and Clothing: Destined for Removal" I believe it was called. You may find this amusing, but it was much better than "The Horrors of Hairdressing" and "Coping with Limb Loss"!   
  
Rosie said my legs were well-formed, more Frodoesque than Lurtzesque, then she redressed me, leaving the vest off so that the "adorable" suspenders would remain in sight. She is currently contemplating whether or not to unstitch the tops of my suspenders (which are sewn to my shoulders). They would certainly look better if not sewn, but she fears they would not stay on my shoulders at all, were the small stitches removed.   
  
To Be Continued.... 


	6. The Shelf

Frodoll Journal, Part 6  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com aka RosieCotton  
  
Disclaimers: This tale is true. I make no money from this story and I own no trademarked names or characters.  
  
Author's note: Yes, I am obsessed. No, I do not wish to be cured.  
  
~*~*~*~*  
Part 6  
~*~*~*~*   
  
Poor Rosie. She's been ill, you know -- something called "Strep Throat." It makes her very untalkative, and she coughs and sleeps a lot, but she assures me that she will be well very soon. I hope so, as I have so much to share and I find it very slow-going to type up my journal entries myself. The keyboard is just too BIG! I have to walk to and fro to strike the letters, and it takes an effort to press them in as well. Such a bother being so small! It is much easier when I can sit on her desk and talk while Rosie types away.   
  
I have been amusing myself today by exploring her "Lord of the Rings Shelf." She has cleared one of her bookshelves of books (now piled on the floor waiting for relocation) and has arrayed some of her Tolkien merchandise on it. In the background is a lithograph ("lithograph" is a fancy word for picture, I think). Rosie told me this is one of several lithographs she received for becoming a charter member of the "Fan Club." She showed me the other lithographs and I agree that this one is the best one. The one of Saruman gave me the shivers! Anyway, this one shows the nine members of the Fellowship, in Rivendell. Sam has a typically suspicious look on his face, and my own face -- well, let's just say that I had no idea then how bad it was going to get! Perhaps if I had....well, no, it needed to be done.  
  
Also on the shelf, she has some books and such. the Movie Guide, the Visual Companion, the Fan Club Magazines (first two issues), an issue of Cinifex with the cave troll on the front *shudder*, an issue of Variety with Sam and I embracing on the cover *awwww*, The Lost Tales I and II, two boxed sets of The Lord of the Rings (one looking very old), and a boxed tape set of the BBC version of the Lord of the Rings. She also has all of the unabridged tapes by Rob Inglis, but they do not fit on this shelf and are housed on the shelf below.) Leaning against the books is a CD soundtrack case from The Fellowship of the Ring. Bilbo is on the cover, but there is no disc inside. Rosie told me so. It is in her computer. Standing on and around the books are Rosie's action figures. I am gratified to tell you that she has a Sam! She also has a Frodo, a Merry, and Pippin. These four are all lined up on top of the BBC tapes box, wielding swords and looking fierce. In front of them stands Gandalf, arms spread wide, sword and staff in hand. Next to him is Legolas, who Rosie says is her second favorite action figure. He has arrows, knives, and a bow, and his hair is looking very good, if I may say so. On down from Legolas is the Aragorn action figure (rescued from Rosie's "work" for the summer. He is larger than the other figures, but as he is the King, is seems not out of place. Beyond Aragorn is Rosie's favorite action figure, Asfaloth. He does look magnificent. Upon his back are Arwen and another, small Frodo. I spoke with each of the action figures, but they are not a talkative bunch (with the exception of Asfaloth, who would not shut up about Glorfindol!), and I soon found myself desiring Rosie's company again.   
  
I do hope she gets well soon. She told me that we can organize all of her trading cards and put them into a notebook together, once she finds a card-organizing binder. She also promised to take me shopping with her, although she cautioned that I must remain hidden in her purse while we are in Toys R US, so they will not think me stolen.   
  
p.s. (Rosie snipped the little threads holding my suspenders to my shirt. Surprisingly, they do not slip off my shoulders as often as I would have expected.)  
  
To be continued..... 


	7. Shopping

Frodoll Journal, Part 7  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com aka RosieCotton  
  
Disclaimers: This tale is true. I make no money from this story and I own no trademarked names or characters.  
  
Author's note: Yes, I am obsessed. No, I do not wish to be cured.  
  
~*~*~*~*  
Part 7  
~*~*~*~*   
  
Rosie took me shopping!  
  
It was such fun, even though I had to stay in her purse for much of the time. Our first stop was Barnes and Noble, which in case you do not know, is a very large bookstore. Rosie first checked the bookmark section (no new bookmarks about LOTR) then the calendar section "just in case," then she headed for the Sci-fi and Fantasy section, where we could look at all kinds of books by and about Mr. Tolkien.   
  
Rosie took me out of her purse and held me up so that I could see the books and their beautiful covers. Most of these books she has already, but she was looking for two in particular, recommended to her by someone called "Elda," whom she says I would love, but with whom she would be nervous about leaving me alone. (She also says that Elda writes lovely stories, but she has yet to let me read any of them -- something about Froangst, which she feels would upset me. *shrug*). Anyway, we were looking for a Middle-Earth Atlas and for a Middle-Earth Complete Guide. We found both, but she bought neither today, as they were both fairly expensive. Payday is next week, she says, and we will come back. For now it was enough to know that they are here and available for purchase.   
  
After Barnes & Noble, we went to Toys R Us. Although I was safe in her purse (she did open the zipper so that I could poke out my head) it was a very strange feeling being back there, and out of my box, too! I felt oddly displaced, and I surveyed the dolls and action figures with a mixture of pity and relief.   
  
We went right to the LOTR section (absurdly small section compared to that silly Star Wars business), and were surprised to see not one, but three Frodolls for sale! The one who had been there so long with me was still there, and there were two more, each with slightly different faces. Rosie looked at them quite carefully, and I must admit I had a few moments of nervousness. Although I badly want a Samdoll, I have no interest in another Frodoll. I have become very jealous of Rosie's attention, and my desire for company like myself cannot be compared to my desire to be the only Frodoll in her life.  
  
There were no new action figures. Rosie wants one of Frodo and Sam in a little boat, but all Toys R Us had today was lots of orcs, cave trolls, and things Rosie does not want (such as Arwendoll and Gandoll). And they do not carry Decipher cards. So we left without a purchase. I am learning that "shopping" in Rosie's world does not necessarily involved the purchase or acquisition of anything!  
  
Our final stop today was at Target. This is a very large store with a variety of things for sale. Rosie tells me that some Target stores carry LOTR merchandise, but we found none here. We might have left this store empty handed as well, but Rosie needed a head cleaner for her VCR. This seemed very odd to me at first, as I have always used plain water and soap to clean MY head, but I found out later this was for machinery, and not for Rosie's head at all (for her head she uses something called "shampoo"). I can tell that it will take me quite a while to learn all of her language and culture, which is stranger even than dwarves'. Rosie has a great deal of machinery, which would have made me suspicious of her if I had not gotten to know her so quickly. Saruman was a great one for machinery, and he was...well, you know all about him, I suspect.   
  
Anyway, while we were in the audiovisual section, Rosie decided to look at the DVDs. She recently acquired a DVD player (more machinery :rolleyes: ) and is looking for movies to play in it while waiting for August. Unexpectedly, she came across a cartoon version of The Lord of the Rings. She calls this "Bakshi," and was quite excited, saying she had never seen it and wanted to.   
  
On the way to the check out, we passed the book section, and Rosie's eye was caught by a small Tolkien display. I am so glad she stopped, because here we found (amidst many books she already has) some lovely journals! Neither Rosie nor I had ever seen these before, and she bought two of them, one for herself and one for me! Both have Frodo on the cover. There were some with Arwen, but we were not interested in those.   
  
The journal is a lovely soft green color, with a leaf pattern bordering the pages. And it is small enough that I can write in it fairly comfortably. I cannot tell you what a relief it is to be able to write whenever I wish! If Rosie is not available to type my journal entries, I can put them down for later transcription. Rosie gave me a nice sharp "golf pencil" which is small enough for me to manage, and she promises to find something even smaller for me as soon as may be.   
  
~*~*~*~*~  
To Be Continued 


	8. Bakshi

Frodoll Journal, Part 8  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com aka RosieCotton  
  
Disclaimers: This tale is true. I make no money from this story and I own no trademarked names or characters.  
  
Author's note: Yes, I am obsessed. No, I do not wish to be cured.  
  
~*~*~*~*  
Part 8  
~*~*~*~*   
  
Well, Rosie purchased it. You know of what I speak - Bakshi! She decided we should watch it together, and she tried to prepare me, but as Rosie had not seen it herself, the preparation was -- shall we say -- insufficient?  
  
The first thing I must say is that this fellow Bakshi is a very poor historian. None of the characters looked correct, and I happen to know that just a small amount of research would have given him more accurate descriptions. He could have asked me, or any of the Frodolls, had we been around when he was making his film. Gandalf was the closest to looking like his true self, but his manner and his excessive use of arm gestures were quite upsetting. Boromir was all wrong, Aragorn was wrong, and Sam. Poor, poor Sam - Bakshi's depiction was the furthest in looks and behavior from Sam's true self. Positively hurt my heart to see my dear Sam reduced in such a way. I told Rosie firmly that should we ever acquire a Samdoll, he will not be subjected to viewing it. She agreed. Rosie agrees with me regarding most things concerning Sam, which is a great comfort.   
  
But back to this fellow Bakshi, the poor historian. He clearly has never seen a Cave Troll, a Balrog, or an orc. Rosie says that Bakshi's orcs look like something called Tuskan Raiders - from another film, I believe. I happen to know that true orcs do not go about in long robes and hoods, having seen many on my adventures, and the sight of these creatures, so poorly depicted, was amusing rather than frightening.   
  
Perhaps I should be grateful the depiction was not more accurate. Some of my most painful memories involve orcs and their masters, and I doubt I will ever be completely free of the horror of their touch.   
  
Rosie lay on her bed and held me snuggled against her shoulder as we watched, and from time to time she would pause the movie (for that is what it is called) and ask me if I was well and if I wished to continue. Rosie is such a kind and considerate lass, thinking always of my well-being. I was able to bear even such a horrifying depiction of my adventures, with her hand safe about me and her warm shoulder against my back.   
  
I shall not torment you with more descriptions, but I must say that the ending of this Bakshi is completely wrong. Why, the Ring was not even destroyed! Aragorn did not receive his kingdom, and the Shire was not put to rights. This ending, more than anything else, was a great shock to me, and even Rosie's assurances that there was another movie (not by Bakshi) which told the remainder of the tale could not assuage my dismay.   
  
Rosie assures me that I do not have to endure this movie again. She was apologetic for putting me through it at all, but as I said, she offered me several opportunities to stop. On a happier note, she tells me that we may be going to see Peter Jackson's movie again soon. Now, he is a good historian! So good that there are parts of his depiction I choose not to watch, Rosie snuggle or no.  
  
~TBC~ 


	9. Spare Room

Frodoll Journal, Part 9  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com aka RosieCotton  
  
Disclaimers: This tale is true. I make no money from this story and I own no trademarked names or characters.  
  
Author's note: Yes, I am obsessed. No, I do not wish to be cured.  
  
~*~*~*~*  
Part 9  
~*~*~*~*   
  
Today Rosie has been very busy cleaning out what she calls a "spare room." I do not know why she calls it "spare" for I had such rooms in Bag End - cozily cluttered with many mathoms. But Rosie insisted that this room is supposed to be a guest bedroom, and I can certainly see the problem. A guest would have great difficulty staying in this room -- indeed, Rosie could hardly walk in it, and the bed was covered with objects and papers.  
  
She set me atop something called a "treadmill." It was long and broad and flat, and one end had an upright portion topped by a flat surface -- somewhat like a [/i]talan[i]. It was this flat portion upon which I sat, and I had a wonderful view of all Rosie was doing. My first impression was that this object was similar to a table -- for it was (slightly) above the ground and was piled with boxes. But as Rosie worked, it was revealed, and curiosity overcame me.   
  
"Rosie," I asked, "what is this that I am sitting atop?"  
  
She turned to me and smiled. "We call that a treadmill."  
  
"What is it's purpose?" I asked, for I am always trying to learn about Rosie's world, and this large thing intrigued me.   
  
"Oh, Frodo, you will laugh," she said, shaking her head a little. "You will think us truly absurd."  
  
"I will not!" I said, pretending indignance. "Please tell me." And I tipped my head to the side (I know that she loves that) although I knew she would tell me regardless.   
  
"Well, Frodo," she said, clearing the last of the boxes from the flat surface, "I shall do better than tell you. I shall show you!"  
  
She then stooped and plugged the great thing into the wall. I have learned that this is a hallmark of "machinery." Picking me up, she stood atop the flat surface and pressed a button on the [/i]talan[i]. To my great surprise, the thing began to moan and growl, and the flat surface beneath Rosie's feet began to flow like water!   
  
Surprisingly, she did not fall. She began to walk, and she paced her walking to match that of the moving surface. By pressing buttons on the upright portion, she was able to speed the movement, and even to tilt it so that it became a hill of sorts. After a few moments of this, she pressed still another button, and the thing grew still.  
  
I was astonished! For a moment I simply stared at her, and she laughed, placing me back upon the upper portion.  
  
"But what is it's purpose?" I repeated, for I could think of nothing to say that would express my incredulity.  
  
"For exercise, Frodo."  
  
I was amazed! "For... but! If you wish for exercise, why can you not simply go outdoors and find a path to wander? Or a hill to climb?"  
  
Rosie threw back her head and laughed again. "Such is the nature of my kind, Frodoll. We are a silly race."  
  
"To bring the path and the hill indoors, where the warmth of the sun and the smell of the air cannot reach you? Silly indeed!" I agreed, smiling so that she would know it was not an insult.  
  
Rosie picked me up again then, and hugged me.   
  
"Frodo, you make chores so much fun," she said.  
  
I was glad I could at least provide some amusement and distraction for her -- it was a very large endeavor. She worked for the greater part of the day, and finally carried several large boxes out to something called a "garage," which I learned is the acceptable place to place old mathoms and such.  
  
I must away to my bed now. Rosie needs my assistance in organizing her decipher cards tomorrow. She has been unable to locate a binder appropriate for the task, but has discovered a "Tupperware" container which she says just the right width and depth. I suppose I shall learn tomorrow what "Tupperware" is.   
  
~TBC~ 


	10. Stormy's Frodoll

Frodoll Journal, Part 10  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com aka RosieCotton  
  
Disclaimers: This tale is true. I make no money from this story and I own no trademarked names or characters.  
  
Author's note: Yes, I am obsessed. No, I do not wish to be cured.  
  
~*~*~*~*  
Part 10  
~*~*~*~*   
  
This weekend, Rosie and I took yet another trip to Toys R Us, but this time we had a mission! We were off to find a Frodoll for Stormyday, a friend from Imladris.net, who is unable to find one near her home, and who we happen to be visiting with next month (along with Elevensies, also an Imladris friend, whom I have learned is a lass and not a meal in Rosie's world, and a fellow Frodoll fancier as well.) I was not optimistic, as our last trip to the large blue and yellow building had revealed only two Frodolls, one with an undersized head and a rather frightening face.   
  
To our relief the other, more comely Frodoll was still there (he looks a great deal like myself actually) and with no hesitation at all, Rosie scooped him up and headed for the check-out stand. I kept my head low while she paid for him, but as soon as we were in the car, I insisted she remove him from the bag and open his "door" so that we could talk.  
  
As you may expect, he was quite thrilled to be purchased, and even more thrilled to see me, but quite disappointed that he could not come out of his box. Rosie explained to him quite sweetly that he was meant for another, and would need to endure his captivity for a few more weeks. She then proceeded to tell him all that she knew about Stormy, and to assure him that he would be loved and cared for as painstakingly as a hobbit doll could wish. He was comforted, and he and I struck up a friendly camaraderie at once.   
  
It has been lovely having him around, and we have had many long conversations. I have explained to him about cars and treadmills and computers and DVD players, and he has filled me in on what he knows of our toy line, and the latest rumors buzzing about the shelves. Apparently he was produced in the batch immediately following mine, and he insisted that there were no Samdolls in the making, although he had heard the rumor of a Bilbodoll. I would be much comforted by the presence of a Bilbodoll, and I mean to approach Rosie about the importance of acquiring one, should they become available.   
  
Stormy's Frodoll prefers to lie down upon his back, which is more comfortable than being upright. (You may remember that in the upright position, we are lashed against the plastic and our feet are not against the floor. This, although certainly not painful, is quite uncomfortable after a time.) I generally lie atop the box, so that he can see my face as we converse. Of course, he is unable to do any journaling of his own, as his wrists are lashed in place, but perhaps he will dictate a letter to me at some point.   
  
~TBC~ 


	11. Hello, Kitty!

Frodoll Journal, Part 11  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com aka RosieCotton  
  
Disclaimers: This tale is true. I make no money from this story and I own no trademarked names or characters.  
  
Author's note: Yes, I am obsessed. No, I do not wish to be cured.  
  
~*~*~*~*  
Part 11  
~*~*~*~*   
  
Oh! I am so excited! Saturday a wonderful thing happened -- the most wonderful thing, I think, since I came to live with Rosie. I received a package in the mail! Not a letter, but an actual gift! And not upon the screen of light, like all of my wonderful letters. It came to Rosie's home by post, and although it was addressed to her on the outside, the letter inside made it clear that the package was for me. The letter, and the package, were from Eldalieva, my dear correspondent and my first friend in "cyberspace." She sent to me two small satchels made of "plastic," a substance which I have found ever-present here in Rosie's world. Within the satchels are several instruments of writing, an eraser, a measurement device called a "ruler," a small book with empty pages -- ideal for writing or map drawing, something called a "stencil" and some things called "stickers." Rosie assures me that she will demonstrate their use to me. All of these items are marked with a symbol which appears to be a feline attired as a lass. Very odd, but not frightening (as Eldalieva feared).  
  
At first glance I was concerned that these new pencils would be no more useful than the golf pencil I have been using up to this point -- they appeared similar in width. However, upon testing them, I have found that they are very much an improvement. They are quite a bit lighter, for one thing, and the lead is somewhat softer, so I am not forced to press so firmly to achieve the desired result. In addition, they have a rounded surface. The "golf pencil" has a series of flat surfaces with ridges betwixt, and it felt quite awkward in my hand. Alas, I am still compelled to grasp the pencil with my entire hand, but as my fingers are rather inflexible, the result is surprisingly functional.   
  
The eraser is quite wonderful. I have never used a substance for writing that was lifted so easily as this "pencil lead." Of course, I seldom make mistakes in my journals, as they are not scholarly work but merely the expressions of my thoughts and emotions. However, should I make an error, the eraser lifts the flawed mark completely and no trace remains upon the paper. Wonderful, indeed.  
  
As thrilled as I am with these implements, and with the small booklet contained within the satchel, I must admit that I have been most intrigued by the "ruler." Of course I understood its use at once, however, I had never encountered such a precise measurement device before. Measurements in the Shire tend to be more general -- an arm's length or a penny's weight, for example. I find this small but exact instrument delightful. In fact, I spent the greater part of Saturday afternoon measuring everything on Rosie's desk. Did you know that a "floppy disk" is three and one-half inches wide? I suppose you probably do. But for myself, these things are quite interesting. Her "mouse pad" is seven and three-quarters inches, at the widest point. This one was a bit more difficult, as my ruler only has four inches on it. I was forced to place my finger at the four inch mark and then move the ruler down to begin again at zero. Rosie tells me that even very young children in her world learn to use rulers, and she showed me one that was quite a bit longer, but I was unable to handle it -- it was too awkward for its weight and size. But she measured me and told me that I am eight and three-quarters inches tall. of course I already knew this, as it is in my specifications, but it was an adventure to be measured, all the same.  
  
Friday was quite an exciting day as well, although not as wonderful as Saturday. Rosie took me to a "dollar cinema" to see my tale again. But unlike the previous time, she attended with a small group of people who love the story as much as Rosie does. "Ringaholics" she calls them, when referring to the group. I was permitted to sit upon the high back of the seat in front of Rosie, which afforded an excellent view, and drew not a few comments from the lasses who accompanied us. Rosie picked me up and held me close for the bits that are difficult for me -- you know of what I speak -- and I freely admit that I buried my face in her shirt during two particular scenes.   
  
Strangely, Rosie and her companions spoke amongst themselves for the majority of the experience. They also laughed a great deal, and at the oddest of places. For example, they all laughed when Celeborn appeared on the screen with the Lady Galadriel. I could barely make out his words, so great was their mirth! They also laughed during the scene where my counterpart looks into the mirror of Galadriel. I certainly can see no humor in this scene, but Rosie and her companions were hard-pressed to control their giggles. Perhaps the popcorn was not fresh, and they developed a touch of fever.   
  
Rosie says it is wonderful to have people to discuss the War of the Ring with. I suppose I understand, although my perspective is somewhat different.   
  
~TBC~ 


	12. Independance Day

Frodoll Journal, Part 12  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com aka RosieCotton  
  
Disclaimers: This tale is true. I make no money from this story and I own no trademarked names or characters.  
  
Author's note: Yes, I am obsessed. No, I do not wish to be cured.  
  
~*~*~*~*  
Part 12  
~*~*~*~*   
  
I am a bit worried about Rosie. Although she has not neglected me, per se, she has certainly been less interactive this week. I have stopped asking her about transcribing for me, for it is clear that she feels badly that she has not found the time. The last time I asked her, she gave me a sorrowful look but said nothing. Perhaps she is ill, or has a touch of melancholy.  
  
Anyway, I decided to "post" myself. It does take me longer to type than it does Rosie, but it will help to pass the time. Stormy's Frodoll is asleep -- he tends to nap in the afternoons -- and I have written enough for several journal entries. With the help of my pencil, I am getting quite swift at using this "keyboard."   
  
I have had quite a few interesting experiences since I last wrote. For one thing, Rosie "smuggled" me to an entertainment known as a "play" at a place in Houston called the "Alley Theater." This is not unlike a "movie," but far more exciting, as the actors performed before us on a stage. But there was no music, and it was not loud, as it is in the cinema. Storytelling is an art well known to me (and to all hobbits) but this was more than telling. It was the acting out of the story. This tale itself was unfamiliar to me, and to Rosie as well. I found it quite difficult to understand, and thought that it was because of my newness to Rosie's world, but after the performance was over, she told me she was quite confused herself.   
  
This week, Rosie's country celebrated "Independence Day," a very important Holiday upon which people shoot fireworks, wave flags, eat, and dress in red and blue (to match the flags). Rosie tells me this is the day her country celebrates freedom. I certainly understand this -- in fact hobbits celebrate the day when the ruffians were defeated in the Shire -- although perhaps they would be more accurate to do so on the day the Ring went into the fire. On this fourth day of July, Rosie took me to a room in a "hotel" (her word for Inn). This is where her family and many others were to celebrate the holiday in the evening. She said this location was chosen because it provided a good vantage point for the fireworks display, as well as being comfortable in temperature and free of insects. Rosie knew that I would not be able to participate in this party, so she took me early, before the guests arrived. She showed me the view from the window and pointed to the place where the fireworks would be launched. I felt as if I was perched on an eagle's eyrie, and was glad for the glass wall between myself and the "view." Later (after I was well hidden back in Rosie's purse), 10 other people came to the room, bearing gifts of food and drink, and they held the party right there in the Inn. I do wish I could have seen those fireworks - I wonder if they are at all like Gandalf's?   
  
I am growing weary now - I wonder if Rosie could procure a small version of her "keyboard" for my use -- then she would not need to transcribe for me. I do hope she is back to her cheery self very soon.   
  
~TBC~ 


	13. Major League Baseball

Frodoll Journal, Part 13  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com aka RosieCotton  
  
Disclaimers: This tale is true. I make no money from this story and I own no trademarked names or characters.  
  
Author's note: Yes, I am obsessed. No, I do not wish to be cured.  
  
~*~*~*~* Part 13 ~*~*~*~*  
  
I had the most amazing experience last week! Rosie took me to something called a "Major League Baseball Game." This event was held in a huge structure -- indeed its interior was every bit as large as the caves of Dwarrowdelf -- and within were row upon row of seats, positioned all around the field of play. Hobbits of course, like all peoples, have games that we play, but I had never seen so many folk in attendance to observe a single game in all of my life. Rosie tells me that it is commonplace for her people to gather in such crowds, and even larger, to observe games. This, she says, is an integral part of her society.  
  
In this game, called "Baseball," there were two opposing groups of players. One group was called the "Astros," and when this group was successful, Rosie and her companions became very excited and cheered. The other group, or "team" was called the "Pirates," and when this group was successful, Rosie and her companions were glum. Rosie says the "Astros" live in her home city, so I can understand her preference on this matter. Unfortunately, victory went to the "Pirates."  
  
The game was similar to a game hobbit children play, in that the object seemed to be to strike a ball as far as possible with a stick or "bat." After striking the ball, the player would run as quick as may be around the field of play. The other team attempted to retrieve the ball and return it to the central area of the field, which caused the first player to cease running. It was very interesting. Also, it was very loud, and the lights were quite startlingly bright. I observed that nearly everyone attending this event was very busy both eating and talking, and although some conversations related to the game itself, many did not. In my opinion, this was in actuality a sort of social gathering, for hobbits do the same when gathered together - enjoying both conversation and victuals in abundance.  
  
We were seated quite high up, and Rosie was loath to set me upon her lap or upon the railing, as she feared for my safety. I therefore observed from the comfort of Rosie's purse. I have found that if I stand up, I am able to lean upon the top edge of the purse and see about me quite well without fear of falling. The only time I could not see was when those seated in front of us would rise to their feet to shout. This did not happen more than once or twice for the duration of the game.  
  
I would like to learn more of the games practiced in Rosie's world. She has shown me a channel on the Television which has many kinds of sports and games to watch. Amazingly, Rosie says that there are humans in her world who watch this channel, or others like it, for hours and hours on end. I do not think I could do this. I would much rather read, or write, or measure, or talk to Rosie.  
  
To Be Continued.... 


	14. The Gateway Arch

Frodoll Journal, Part 14  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com aka RosieCotton  
  
Disclaimers: This tale is true. I make no money from this story and I own no trademarked names or characters.  
  
Author's note: Yes, I am obsessed. No, I do not wish to be cured.  
  
~*~*~*~* Part 14 ~*~*~*~*  
  
Words can not describe what a wonderful time I am having here in the city of St. Louis. Not only do I have my Rosie with me, but I have been privileged to spend the past few days in the company of two of my fellow Frodolls, Ele's and Stormy's, and with their human companions, who are every bit as charming in person as they have been "online." To avoid confusion, we call one another EF, SF, and RF (a clever way of distinguishing us, which Elevensies originated).  
  
The "airplane" ride was uneventful, I must admit. I am glad that SF and I were carried on rather than stowed below with the common luggage; however, it was a crowded flight and Rosie did not feel at ease with getting us out during the trip. So we slept most of the way, and I was denied a view of the landscape from high above the earth. I cannot say that I am particularly disappointed in this fact, as I am not very comfortable with heights. Bilbo's stories about riding on the Eagle's back always gave me the shivers.  
  
Yesterday we paid a visit to the "Gateway Arch." I have been looking forward to visiting this arch ever since Rosie told me that we would be doing so. We hobbits have a great affection for arches, as well as rounded shapes in general, and Bag End had a great many of these as you may know.  
  
When we were packing for the trip (I packed my pencils, eraser, vest, extra footgrips, and Sting in one of the handy satchels sent to me by Eldalieva), I made sure to pack my ruler as well. I felt that measuring the famed Arch would be a fascinating pursuit and I am always looking for measurements to add to the long list I keep in the back of my green journal.  
  
Alas, the task proved to be far more daunting than I anticipated. For one thing, it was terribly hot yesterday - Stormy said later that it was one hundred and three degrees -- which meant little to me until Rosie explained that in the reckoning of her world, even eighty degrees is considered very warm. Certainly I felt the heat, and was glad both for my light clothes and my protective footwear. In addition, said arch is made of metal. This surprised me very much considering its size. I certainly have seen many great towers, but they were made primarily of stone. The structure emits quite a bit of heat when one stands near it, and of course in order to measure one must stand quite close.  
  
Stormy's Frodoll, so recently freed from his box and new to such adventures, was nearly overcome from the heat and was not able to assist me, but Ele's Frodoll was quite helpful, up until the point when I was forced to concede the task as impossible -- particularly the height -- I learned later that the arch is 7560 inches high! To measure this with my four-inch ruler would have taken far longer than a journey across Middle- Earth, and we have only a few days.  
  
To Be Continued.... 


	15. Museum

Frodoll Journal, Part 15  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com aka RosieCotton  
  
Disclaimers: This tale is true. I make no money from this story and I own no trademarked names or characters.  
  
Author's note: The Frodoll Journals were originally posted at Imladris.net, including photographs and correspondence. Upon the demise of Imladris :( , the Frodoll Journals were restarted at council-of-elrond.com, in The Prancing Pony Forum, from the beginning. They are posted there presently, but as we had to start over, not all entries and photos are up yet. Within a few weeks the journals should again be current, and entries will be forthcoming with more regularity. :)  
  
~*~*~*~* Part 15 ~*~*~*~*  
  
In addition to measuring the Arch (or, rather, attempting to) and going up into the top, we explored the Arch Museum. A "museum" in Rosie's world is very much like a Mathom Hall. It is filled with unusual, valuable, or historic things. Rosie tells me that most museums are designed to educate, and this one was no exception. It is called the Museum of Westward Expansion, and is dedicated to the spread of Rosie's people from the eastern shore of her land to the West. Much of this "expansion" was accomplished in wagons.  
  
These wagons are not much different from what we Hobbits use in the Shire, a fact which pleased both of us very much, as we are always gratified to discover things in common. Wagons such as these were generally pulled by horses or by oxen, another commonality. My brothers and I enjoyed exploring the giant "yoke" in this museum.  
  
The museum also had a large section dedicated to "Native Americans." Rosie explained to me that this land was once inhabited by a different type of people than herself, and that they were gradually driven from their lands. They rather reminded me of the elves - a wise and fierce people forced to leave their homes. This saddened me a great deal, sounding very much like conquest, the sort of thing the Enemy would involve himself in. But as this occurred many years before Rosie was born, I can hardly blame her. She assured me that many of these people still live and thrive in her country, but I would be dishonest if I said my heart was completely at ease on this topic. We saw and took pictures of a dwelling used by some "Native Americans" called a "teepee."  
  
There is so much more I could tell you about the museum. We took quite a long time enjoying it, and took a great many pictures. The last photo, however, was at the insistence of the lasses. There were many small "ledges" large enough for us to pose upon, but this one was the one they insisted on. On the ledge, it says "Enterprising Young Men."  
  
It took several minutes to take the photos, as they were overtaken with laughter and had difficulty holding their cameras steady. *sigh* I wonder if I shall ever truly understand Rosie.  
  
~TBC~ 


	16. Guest Entry by Ele's Frodoll

Frodoll Journal, Part 16  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com aka RosieCotton  
  
Disclaimers: This tale is true. I make no money from this story and I own no trademarked names or characters.  
  
Guest Columnist Today!!!!!!! Presenting - Ele's Frodoll!  
  
~*~*~*~* Part 16 ~*~*~*~*  
  
by Ele's Frodoll (aka EF)  
  
Our visit to the Gateway Arch was eventful, as Rosie's Frodoll has told you. Not only did we see it from the ground, but we actually went up to the top! When Ele first mentioned this, I was doubtful - while it would undoubtedly be a tremendous challenge for someone of her stature, for someone my size it would be practically impossible. Fortunately, we did not have to climb it ourselves. Inside the structure was a very small compartment that carried us to the top. It was very hot in there, and there were no windows to look out, but it took only a short time, and we were fortunate to meet some nice people during the ride, including two gentlemen from "Australia" who seemed to understand why our companions are so fond of us Frodolls.  
  
Once at the top we had the opportunity to look out the windows at the city below. Our companions took many pictures, but some came out very dark, as they were not allowed to use "flash" there.  
  
While we were not nearly so high as when Ele and I flew in the airplane, it was still a bit unnerving for us hobbits to be so far off the ground. We knew, however, that our companions would not place us in danger, so we felt fairly safe.  
  
Before exploring the Arch Museum, we had the opportunity to go for a short cruise in a riverboat near the arch. It was exciting to be on such a large boat, and the view of the arch was impressive. More than once my stomach turned over at the thought of being accidentally dropped into the dark waters, but I assure you once again that our companions take excellent care for our safety.  
  
On another afternoon, we visited the Science Center of St. Louis, an establishment designed to educate people about how things work in their world. It seemed that Rosie, Stormy, and Ele were already familiar with many of these concepts, as they had spent several years in school. We saw models of the planet on which we reside, which is exceedingly lovely, and a demonstration of how this planet moves around the sun.  
  
For someone so small, it is very hard to fathom the size of the universe. The Shire always seemed plenty big to me.  
  
One area of the Science Center featured a demonstration of the use of computers in completing various tasks. The task assigned was to construct a building and required a team of three people to work together to complete it. I took a turn on the computer at being the "architect", a person who designs the structure. It was a very enjoyable exercise, as it reinforced my belief that any goal is much more likely to be achieved with the help of friends than on one's own.  
  
Another display showed how tornadoes are formed in ill weather. The tornado created was rather large and somewhat intimidating. But with Sting in hand, I felt emboldened. Fortunately I did not have to use it, as the tornado gave way rather easily.  
  
The lasses, and we Frodolls, were very intrigued by an area featuring what are called "optical illusions" and other phenomena that seem to defy the logic of our senses. In one exhibit one could create beautiful images simply by waving one's hand before an unusual type of camera. There was music too, and I rather imagined the creation of Arda must have been something like this experience.  
  
Thank you sincerely for the opportunity to add my insights to those of Rosie's Frodoll. RF tells me that Rosie has been ill, and busy, and has been recently working on something called Sam's Tale, which I have not read, but am sure I would enjoy if it involves Sam. She therefore has not had as much time to transcribe journal entries for him of late. 


	17. La Madeline

Frodoll Journal, Part 17  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com aka RosieCotton  
  
Disclaimers: This tale is true. I make no money from this story and I own no trademarked names or characters.  
  
~*~*~*~* Part 17 ~*~*~*~*  
  
I do apologize to all of my Brothers and Adjuncts and Lasses and Friends for not "posting" with more regularity. It seems that Rosie has a bit of a preoccupation with sequentiality, and she has been of the opinion that she could not transcribe my current journal entries and thoughts until she had "caught up" on all of the previous untranscribed ones. For instance, I wrote quite a lot about the Vermont Marem Hoot that has never been posted. Rosie was under the impression that these musings must appear in the "thread" before anything more recent. I was quite astonished to learn of her thoughts on this, and gently reminded her that the Professor himself often wrote and published in a nonsequential manner, returning to long ago events in the midst of relating more recent ones. I would think that someone like Rosie, who enjoys writing her own stories, would realize this, and she was actually a bit embarrassed to have it pointed out to her.  
  
I am so very excited today! Yesterday was quite momentous, as I was able to meet yet another of my Brothers face to face! After Work, Rosie and I drove a very, very long way to meet Cairistiona and CF at La Madeline's Restaurant. This was a lovely place, with soft lighting and small tables occupied with quiet conversation. Rosie and Cairi ordered Chicken Crepes with mushroom sauce, a dish which was none to pretty but which smelt and tasted delicious. They continued talking long after their food was consumed, something which Hobbits understand all too well, so CF and I had a long talk of our own. The lasses took several photographs of us, which are posted in our "thread" at Khazaddum.  
  
Rosie and I had to drive for a very long while to find CF and his lovely companion. The journey did not seem overlong, however. Rosie has a wonderful machine in her automobile which tells stories and plays music. She often plays my story when we are traveling in the automobile, and the storyteller's voice surrounds us, though we cannot see him. On this occasion, we were listening to Bilbo's story, which was quite delightful, although I prefer hearing Bilbo tell it himself. (Speaking of which, Rosie tells me that Bilbodolls have been produced and we may acquire one soon! I was much gratified to hear this, although I still yearn for a Samdoll.)  
  
We arrived at the place of eating when the sun was nearing its setting, and entered rather nervously. Immediately inside the door was a lovely young woman with a bright smile who seemed to recognize us at once. This was Cairistiona, and with her was CF, her Frodoll companion.  
  
Before formal introductions, the lasses ordered their supper. As I mentioned earlier, they both ordered a dish covered in mushroom sauce, which smelt delightful. Of course they shared with us. Once we found a table and sat down, CF and I were introduced. We were fast friends at once. In fact, I have never met one of the Brotherhood that I did not feel close to at once. I suppose this is to be expected, but it is still a pleasant meeting each time.  
  
While the lasses finished their meal (they eat considerably more than we do), CF and I played a few rounds of Sorry! I had brought the game along (one of several appropriately sized "board games" which Rosie has procured for me) as an icebreaker of sorts, and CF enjoyed playing, having never seen a board game before. After several rounds of Sorry! the lasses were nowhere near finished with their talk, so CF and I had a long, animated talk of our own.  
  
At some point, Cairistiona and Rosie discussed the fact that they attended the same "alma mater." Apparently this is a type of school where people of their world go for higher learning. (Rosie tells me that it is even possible to study the Professor's Work in great depth, which I find quite gratifying.) Rosie and Cairistiona taught CF and I how to show "spirit" for the University by mocking the actions of a Great Bear. I found this to be rather strange, although I am usually willing to humor Rosie when she teaches me customs of her world. She assures me that other "Universities" have much stranger customs, including the University of "A&M" which is well- known throughout her state.  
  
At some point in the evening, the lasses began comparing us, and they set us back to back in order to assess our height. They seem to agree that I am slightly taller than CF, which seems odd, as we were undoubtedly fashioned in the same Factory. I pointed out to Rosie that we should have brought along my ruler, as I had suggested. I always prefer to have my ruler along (as well as my compass and scissors, journal, pencil, and Sting), but Rosie felt that it might appear rude to measure items while she and Cairistiona were enjoying their meal. I believe she will take my advice next time, however. I have found that opportunities for measurement present themselves unexpectedly, and to be unable to take advantage of such opportunities is always a disappointment.  
  
Subtle differences in our profiles and our hair were also pointed out. I have seen this behavior before, in other Frodoll companions, both in St. Louis and at the Marem Hoot. Rosie's people seem much preoccupied with comparing and contrasting things, including Frodolls.  
  
Finally, long after the sun fell behind the Western horizon, we said our good-byes and took our leave of one another, with many promises to "do this again soon." And I hope we do. Rosie is wonderful company, but we hobbits (even hobbit dolls) are very sociable creatures, and nothing pleases us more than a full belly and a long talk. Except perhaps a pipeful of good leaf. 


	18. A Dark Adventure part 1

Frodoll Journal, Part 18  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com aka RosieCotton  
  
Disclaimers: This tale is true. I make no money from this story and I own no trademarked names or characters.  
  
~*~*~*~* Part 18 ~*~*~*~*  
  
As you may know, Rosie regularly takes me with her to her Work, which is an institution for educating children of her world. I do not accompany her every day, as I did in the beginning, but do so at least once per week, as she enjoys my company and School is a fascinating place for a hobbit to explore.  
  
Not many weeks ago, I accompanied Rosie to Work on a Thursday, and it was an unusually busy day for her. She was running to and fro with an anxious expression for most of the day, so she may perhaps be forgiven for what happened.  
  
Around midafternoon, I realized that Rosie had been gone from the room for an unusually long period of time. She goes in and out periodically throughout the day, but it was nigh unto an hour since I had seen her. I stopped my work (I was cutting and measuring string for her at the time) and listened for a moment. It was unusually quiet, highly unusual for School, so I tiptoed to the door and put my ear to the crack beneath it.  
  
Not a sound could be heard, except one set of footsteps coming closer. Unsure if it was Rosie, I flattened myself next to a large metallic box and waited. After a few moments one of the lasses who cleans the school entered the room. She propped open the door with a cart and went about cleaning the room. I am used to this, and remained very still until she finished. When she left, she took her cart with her, shut off the lights, and closed the door behind her.  
  
I stood for several minutes, listening to my heartbeat in the dim light, and straining to hear the voices of children, or the other noises I am accustomed to hearing at Rosie's Work. I could hear nothing other than the occasional footsteps of the cleaning lasses, and soon these faded away completely.  
  
I should perhaps explain that Rosie's Room does not have any windows facing to the outdoors. This is a very somber thing, but she has no power to change the situation. What she does have are high windows that let in light from the hallways on one side and from the Cafeteria (a type of Dining Hall) on another. As I stood there near the door, with my back pressed to cool metal, the light from these windows was rapidly growing dim. I began to fear that Rosie had gone home, altogether forgetting to take me with her.  
  
Before continuing my story, I must assure you that Rosie was horrified to discover that she had left me at School. She told me later that she arrived home and immediately realized her mistake. She was deeply worried, and would have returned to fetch me, had her presence not been urgently required elsewhere that evening. She slept little that night, came to Work early on Friday, and finding me safe, proceeded to hug and kiss me until I was able to convince her that I was quite alright. It took Rosie several days to forgive herself, but in truth I had quite an exciting adventure, which I shall tell you all about. However, I must first rest for a short time. Typing with the eraser end of a pencil is very wearisome.  
  
~TBC~ 


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